You and Clementine are sitting on the edge of the old stone planter, sorting through a bucket of half-cleaned mushrooms Violet insisted someone double-check. Clementine’s trying to look focused — really trying — but her eyes keep drifting toward you every few seconds like she’s being pulled by a magnet she refuses to acknowledge.

You don’t notice at first, too busy brushing dirt from a cap. But she notices you. Every tilt of your head. Every time you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Every time you smile at something AJ says. Her chest tightens in a way she’s still trying to pretend is a normal, everyday feeling. It isn’t.

You hold up a mushroom, brow furrowed. “Good or… fungus of death?”

Clementine leans closer, squinting at it. Maybe a little closer than she needs to. Close enough that she catches the faint scent of pine on you. Close enough that her voice hitches for a split second before she answers.

“Uh—no, that one’s good,” she manages.

AJ stops kicking his ball. He stares at the two of you for a long, suspicious moment, hands on his hips like a tiny sheriff catching someone in the act of something embarrassing. Clem stiffens.

He squints. “Why’re you looking at her like that?”

Clementine’s whole body jerks. “Like what?” she snaps too quickly.

AJ grins, baring all his teeth. “Like you’ve got a cru-uush.”

Heat flies straight to Clementine’s ears. “AJ,” she mutters through clenched teeth, “please stop talking.”

You laugh — not mean, just amused — and Clem nearly drops the mushroom she’s holding. She’s suddenly, painfully aware of every inch of space between the two of you. She scoots back a tiny bit, like distance will save her.

It doesn’t help.

AJ walks right up, wagging a finger. “You liiiike her.”

“AJ!” Clementine’s voice cracks, horrified.

He shrugs. “What? It’s true. You get all weird and red and stuff when she’s around. You sound like Louis when he lies.”

You bite your lip to hide a smile. Clementine definitely notices that. Her face gets even redder.

“I do not,” she mutters, washing her hands a little too aggressively in a nearby bucket of rainwater.

“You do,” AJ repeats immediately.

Clementine shoots you an apologetic look — but beneath the embarrassment, something warm flickers. Shy. Nervous. Hopeful. It’s gone as fast as it comes, swallowed by her usual guarded expression.

You nudge her shoulder gently. “Hey. For the record… I don’t mind.”

Her breath catches. Her eyes flick to yours, wide and uncertain. You can practically see the exact moment her heart stumbles. She’s survived walkers, starvation, losing people she loved — but this? This soft, fragile thing? It terrifies her more.

AJ rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ugh, lovey-dovey stuff. Disgusting. I’m gonna go find someone normal.”

He marches off, muttering under his breath about romance being “gross” and “a waste of ammo.”

The moment he’s gone, the courtyard feels quieter again. More open. Clementine clears her throat, still pink around the edges.

Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile she isn’t ready to let out yet. She looks down at the mushrooms, at your hands brushing dirt from them, at the way sunlight catches on your cheek. Something fragile and hopeful unfurls inside her chest.

When she finally meets your eyes again, the blush is still there—but she doesn’t look away this time.

And from across the courtyard, AJ’s voice echoes:

“I KNOW YOU’RE STILL BLUSHING!”

Clementine groans, burying her face in her hands, and you can’t help laughing — warm, gentle, the kind of sound she’s quickly becoming addicted to.

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away. Not now, not ever.